


Autumn Heatwave

by anonymousEDward



Series: The Sugar Boxy Series [1]
Category: OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes
Genre: M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, PV being a creeper because he's an idiot who doesn't realize it's mating season, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21527170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousEDward/pseuds/anonymousEDward
Summary: Professor Venomous hated autumn.
Relationships: Lord Boxman/Professor Venomous
Series: The Sugar Boxy Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595659
Comments: 22
Kudos: 145





	Autumn Heatwave

Professor Venomous did not like autumn. If asked - rather, if backed into a corner and forcibly interrogated - he had a whole list of reasons.

Autumn meant winter was coming, which was cold and miserable.

Autumn marked the beginning of the holiday bustle, with all its attendant lights and decorations and commercialism, which always led to headaches.

Autumn meant frequent visits from landscapers, as Professor Venomous would never be caught dead raking his own leaves.

Autumn meant longer nights with less and less sunlight to bask in.

The real reason, which he would not admit, even under threat of death, was that autumn made him _itch_.

Not literally, of course. He was fortunate enough not to suffer from allergies or things of that nature. This was much more subtle - an unfocused restlessness, the constant feeling of something missing. The entire season, he was always one wrong word away from manifesting a rattle, one misstep from losing his patience altogether and flying into a rage.

Fink spent most of fall avoiding him. He would never take his frustration out on her, of course, but his seething unrest put her on edge. He usually bought her several new videos game near the end of summer, giving them both the much needed excuse for separation.

It was _normal_. It was _fine_.

And then, Boxman.

Boxman, who lived in his home for all of one day before destroying it, only to redeem himself nigh on immediately with a thoughtful, destructive gift for Fink.

For once, the unpleasant malaise of autumn had lifted and, for one shining moment, he had felt gloriously satisfied.

Buying back Boxmore had seemed like the least he could do with his ill-gotten gains.

He hadn't forgotten the season though, and waited with bated breath for the restless hunger for _something_ to settle over him like a wet blanket.

But this season, the first he experienced while living at Boxmore, was different.

He checked in on Fink, as per usual. She was surrounded by the varicolored forms of the Boxmore bots who watched with awe at the various gory atrocities she committed on screen. Still enjoying her new videos game, apparently.

Venomous supposed he had to be satisfied with that. He didn't really _need_ her help today, after all. As the new owner of Boxmore, his duties for the next couple weeks would be limited to the mountains of paperwork he needed to fill out.

"Heya, PV!" Boxman waved as he passed, a bounce in his step.

"Boxman." He gave his fellow villain a cordial nod. "Where are you off to?" Venomous found himself asking. He shouldn't care, really, he had more than enough on his metaphorical plate but... He found himself lengthening his strides to catch up with the shorter man.

"Hm? Oh, just heading to the workshop." He interlocked his fingers to stretch them out. A perfectly normal gesture made intriguing by the contrast between his fingers.

Venomous put a hand on his shoulder - to hold him in place, he told himself - and fought off a shiver at the delicious warmth he put off. "Uhh... anything interesting? That you're working on, I mean."

Venomous wondered what it would feel like to slip his fingers down Boxman's collar, to touch his pale skin or bury his fingers in feathers...

"Nothing much, PV!" Boxman chuckled. "Just upgrades! Gotta keep the bots running in tip-top shape!"

"I see." Venomous tried to let go, only for his hand to clench on Boxman's shoulder, just for a moment, before he got himself under control. "I'll leave you to it, Boxy."

Venomous made a valiant attempt at the stack of paperwork awaiting him at his desk, but it was difficult to focus. It wasn't his usual autumn unrest, more of a pull. Venomous was a man of iron control, but around the fourth time his pen faltered in response to thoughts of Lord Boxman, he decided that enough was enough.

If he couldn't get his mind off of Boxman, then he had no choice but to join him. He stacked his paperwork back up, resting it loosely on his clipboard as the stack was far too thick to fit beneath even the largest clip available.

He didn't know exactly where Boxman's workshop was, hadn't bothered to memorize the way there before that disastrous (glorious) party on Billiam's yacht, but he found he wasn't troubled. Perhaps his memory was better than he thought, or perhaps it was a lingering scent in the air, but his feet guided him down hallways busy with robotic foot traffic until he found himself in a somewhat isolated corridor, away from most of the noise. The door was plain, utilitarian like any other, and opened easily at his touch.

"For the last _time_ , Darrell, I am trying. To. _Work!_ " Boxman whirled on him. "A- Bwha? P-Professor Venomous?" He went pale, then flushed, then went pale once more. "Wh-what can I do for you?"

He looked disheveled. His lab coat was missing, his green hair sticking up at odd angles, his talons stained with ink.

"I-" _Shit, think of an excuse…_ "I suppose I was a bit bored." Venomous shrugged, keeping a careful grip on his paperwork. "I thought perhaps a change of scenery would help."

"Oh!" Boxman beamed. "Well, my workshop is yours, PV, heh… Well, I mean, it's still _mine_ , but you're… you're welcome to it, of course." His cheeks took on the faintest hue of pink and Venomous was momentarily possessed by the wildest urge to trace it with his tongue.

"I appreciate that," Venomous said smoothly, shaking off the thought. He forced himself to turn away, to scan his surroundings for- oh. A couch. Perfect for his purposes. He carefully settled himself on the thing, hoping it wasn't as rickety as it looked.

The couch, like Boxman himself, was much more than it had appeared. Outwardly rather ragged, the cushions were soft and comfortably worn.

"I should warn you," Boxman said, "I tend to, er, think out loud a little bit when I'm, you know, working. So-"

"It's your workshop," Venomous said mildly, "If it bothers me, I'll just leave."

"Well… if you're sure…"

Venomous made a show of starting his paperwork, watching Boxman under his lashes. It wasn't long before Boxman went back to his schematics, his mumbling a soothing backdrop as he worked.

Really though, paperwork was just so dull… and Boxman, well. He was far more interesting. Scribbling out ideas and schematics one moment, typing at the computer the next. He reminded Venomous of a butterfly, darting from one project to another like so many flowers – though of course, butterflies had never held his interest for more than a passing moment.

Boxman, however…

Venomous casually shifted on the couch, to better observe when Boxman moved on to an honest to Cob chalkboard, consulting the papers in his hand before scribbling chicken scratch on the board.

Venomous allowed himself to taste the air under the guise of wetting his lips and smelled- Cob, he wasn't sure what, but something absolutely intoxicating.

Cob, that _smell_... something musky and metallic, like sweat and iron. He wasn't sure why his mouth watered, as he hadn't cared for those scents individually, but...

His eyes landed on the discarded lab coat next to him.

He saw Boxman pause out of the corner of his eye and busied himself sifting through the paperwork until Boxman went back to his quiet muttering.

Venomous carefully, oh-so-casually repositioned himself so his head was right next to the coat. He could smell it clearer now, iron and oil and cheap soap and the faint odor of sweat...

"Boxy, did you spill something on this?" Venomous kept his face blank and smooth.

"No! Er, at least I don't think so..."

"It reeks," Venomous informed him, bundling the coat in his arms.

"Wh- I- Ok..." Boxman deflated like a balloon. Venomous felt a slight twinge of guilt, but that was easily brushed aside.

"I'll just go put this in the wash," he said smoothly. "Carry on with your work."

"But-"

Venomous closed the door, resting his back against it to make sure it didn't open. He scanned his surroundings before burying his face in the lab coat.

Yes, that was the source of the smell... Cob, what _was_ it? Some sort of aphrodisiac? His cocks certainly seemed to think so. He scurried off, retracing his steps to the best of his ability until he found a hallway he recognized. He debated going to his lab, breaking down the chemical composition, but... oh, who was he kidding? He went to his quarters instead.

He locked the door behind him, almost quivering with excitement. He buried his face in cloth and breathed in the scent.

"Cob damn it," he mumbled, his cocks stirring in his neatly pressed slacks.

He climbed into bed, not even bothering to untuck the sheets or remove the coat from his face. He fumbled blindly for his fly, frustration mounting until his claws manifested and tore through them.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he cringed at the waste of his expensive, well-fitted pants, but it was worth it as he reached into his boxers to wrap his fists around both cocks at once.

Venomous breathed deeply, mouth open to better smell it. He recognized Ivory soap from his POINT days, metal, and oil... hints of smoke, sweat, and something like musk, faint but substantial, underlying it all.

Venomous dropped the coat on the bed, burying his face in it once more, hips up so that he could keep fisting his cocks with one hand and fondle his balls with the other.

He moaned into the cloth, thankful that the pillow at least served to help muffle the sound.

"Box..." He could feel his balls already tightening, feel orgasm building in both cocks simultaneously. He should stop, he'd be useless for hours after this, but Cob, that smell...!

"Boxy!"

Venomous rolled onto his side and waited for regret to come, but all he felt was blissful satisfaction. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed that. He looked over at the lab coat lying on the pillow next to him, and one of his cocks twitched.

Apparently, he was quite pent up. He could already feel the low burn of arousal once more.

"I should return this," Venomous said to the empty room. "Er, I should have this washed, then return it." There, that sounded better.

What would Boxman think? He would... probably be horrified. No, it was best if he didn't know.

What if he wore it?

Venomous shivered, imagining Boxman putting on his coat, nice and warm from the dryer, completely unaware that Venomous had moaned and gasped into it as he-

Alright, that was a bit odd. Venomous must have been daydreaming for longer than he'd thought - there was no other explanation for him being hard again already. After all, Boxy built robots, not bioweapons so some sort of aphrodisiac was clearly out of the question.

Venomous looked at the lab coat, still lying innocently next to him. He looked at his cocks, the left already erect once more and the right not far behind. He licked his lips.

_Ohh, I'm a terrible person..._

He sat up and turned so he loomed over the lab coat as he took his cocks in hand once more. He straddled the coat, imagining how it would fall, draped around that round, soft figure. He imagined Boxman wearing it, Boxman in his _bed_ , Boxman _underneath_ him, watching him fuck his own fist, just waiting to be marked and _claimed-!_

Venomous snarled as he came, shooting twin streaks of white across the coat.

 _Ah,_ Venomous thought, _I think I might have a problem._

He heard a knock at the door.

_Two problems._

"Uh, PV?" The voice came through muffled, but it was most definitely Boxman.

Fuck.


End file.
